


It's a blur

by smlltlks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, If you are looking for cuteness, Its not here, M/M, Making Out, Slight Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 04:53:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10914723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smlltlks/pseuds/smlltlks
Summary: Harry needs to drink some pain away, and he also needs to do something he'll regret. Unfortunateley, or fortunately for Draco Malfoy, he is right there too.





	It's a blur

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, so basically without spoiling anything (It's too short for that anyways), this isn't the two in any kind of healthy relationship. Just saying.

When the dark is all one can see, all lines one drew before suddenly blur. They blur to the point, where one cannot tell whether or not they have crossed them yet, and take another step just to prove a point. Perhaps, that’s exactly what happened when alcohol clashes with sorrow or whatever he was going to call this, Harry thought as he found himself actually stumbling over his own toes whilst swallowing even more of the heavy liquor. By now, his eyes were half lidded, his feet leaden, and the majority of his senses had left him for good, or so it seemed. He was an alcoholised shell of who he used to be, and for some reason the only other person that interested him to an extent larger than a new bottle, was Draco, naturally, of all people. That, alone, wasn’t unusual- the fact that Draco Malfoy was an incredibly interesting person was a fact that Harry had learned to accept by now. 

When was the last time he had even drunken so much, he managed to think, before he decided that thinking was only going to get in his way if he wanted to get through this night. And then, he didn’t think. Instead, he was shoving himself drowsily through the crowds of those hundred sodding students that stuffed the great hall for this not-so-secret party, until he saw Draco’s bloody perfect hair and his dangerous grey eyes, which were, naturally, staring down a shitload of girls; all of which were mooning over him in an almost obsessive manner. Well. Harry could hardly blame them. 

Within seconds, his hand was buried in the taller boy’s collar, and Harry only felt his own fist connect with skin barely below one of those two terribly beautiful grey eyes. Deep inside, it disgusted him how even now he called them beautiful when he was smashing them. A rather sudden crash sharpened his senses again, even if only a little, and Harry found himself staring at a very sweaty, panting version of Draco who was pressed delicately against one of the walls. 

The girls, despite his sudden worry, had decided they were going to ignore the surprise-fight and had left them. On second thought, maybe they were just too notice anything wrong themselves. And Harry almost felt sick now, with the tiny fleck of fear he could find in Draco’s gaze- he felt sick, and he felt guilty. Why was he feeling guilty? 

For a second, Harry stumbled an inch backwards, gripping tightly onto his bottle and raising it clumsily to his mouth to take another sip, because another sip was the missing ingredient to certain disaster. As soon as the cool liquid was trickling not only down his throat but also down his cheek, he found whatever courage he had been looking for and mushed his lips roughly against the blond’s. Sudden euphoria spread through every one of his limbs, and yet he knew this was possibly the greatest mistake of his life. Much greater than his surprise towards him gifting Draco a wrecked eye, was his surprise towards the fact that this boy actually kissed him back. It was the alcohol- he knew that. He knew too many things, for someone who had wanted to shut his brain off. 

It did shut down. It shut down when he felt Draco’s tongue pushing, not at all softly, against his lips forcing them open. It shut down when a firework set off in both the pit of his stomach, and the centre of his brain, and after that there were no thoughts only feelings. Many feelings. His breath hitched, and the blond’s whisper was right at his ears. His head was on overload. 

A hand snaked its way towards the back of his neck, pulling Harry even closer than he had considered possible prior to this, and the very fingers of said hand were now tugging almost painfully at his hair, pushing and pulling him at the same time. Draco was at a war with himself now, Harry knew that, unsure of what he really wanted. He was sure this was it. He was sure that the next thing he would feel was a perfect fist on his tattered face, but instead he felt only the wall crashing painfully into his head from behind as the slytherin turned them around and took charge because Harry was now number than a corpse. 

Both of their bodies were a blur of legs and arms and lips, so tangled and aggressive one might not be able to tell whether they were fighting or making out,but all Harry felt was the slick warmth of a foreign tongue against his and the rough tugging at his hair. He would have fought this. He could have. But want consumed him now, and instead of fighting it, he gave in more and more until his hands felt not only the other’s cold skin, but also his ribs beneath it. His hands had risen underneath the slytherin’s shirt, one around his back and the other clinging to a bare chest right before him. 

And then he blacked out. 

∞

First things first, his head was both filled to the top and hollow at the exact same time when he woke. Second things second, he didn’t remember the majority of his night, until he went through the painful action of opening one of his eyes and realising with a shocked sigh where exactly he was. In fact, he was scrunched up in what was possibly the most uncomfortable sofa, and he felt worse than he thought he looked. Right in front of him stood Draco, clearly not in the same pain he was in, staring him down almost dangerously. Last things last, a purple bruise hovered underneath Draco’s right eye, and a hazy memory of Harry punching him surfaced from the depths of his mind, from behind a locked door labelled: do not open under any circumstances. 

Then, Draco returned the favour. With all his feelings and senses back to the way they were, minus the head- and body-ache throughout him, a fist came thundering onto his cheek far stronger and far more painful than his own swing must have been last night. Perhaps he deserved it. Perhaps this wasn’t Draco returning the punch, but Draco deciding that he was going to kill Harry right here on this spot for what he had done. He could see the headline on the Daily Prophet already: Pretend-Hero makes (unexpected) move on Death-eater. No, that was far too mild. Suddenly, he understood Draco’s anger. 

He wanted to explain- he really did, but then Draco did something Harry wouldn’t have expected at all: he tugged at the gryffindor’s collar and smashed his lips against his face once more. Maybe this wasn’t too bad. They even had matching bruises. 


End file.
